rosa

george russel x reader

summary:

where you realize you are in love with your best friend, george, at age fifteen. to protect the friendship, you keep your feelings a secret even if it means hurting yourself.

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part one

the first time you realized you loved george, you were fifteen. not because of anything dramatic. he didn’t confess anything, he didn’t look at you differently, and he didn’t even know. it happened because you were sitting on the floor of the school library after classes, surrounded by textbooks you had both promised to actually study from. he reached over without looking, stole one of your chips, and told you that you weren't gonna finish them anyway.

you stared at him, pointing out that you had literally opened them thirty seconds ago. george just shrugged with a simple "yeah." when you called him unbelievable, he grinned, reminding you that you still chose to hang out with him. you rolled your eyes and reached for the bag, but he held it just out of reach, demanding a "please" when you muttered his name. you told him you hoped he'd fail chemistry, which he claimed wasn't very nice, though you countered that neither was stealing your food.

he laughed. actually laughed. it was the loud, completely unfiltered kind that made the librarian glare from across the room. he whispered that it was worth it, and you couldn’t stop smiling. that was the problem; you always smiled around him.

you went home that afternoon, dropped your backpack onto your bedroom floor, and lay flat on your bed staring at the ceiling. you thought about the way he laughed. the way he looked at you like you were funny even when your jokes weren’t. the way he always saved you a seat without asking, and the way everyone already assumed you known each other forever.

your phone buzzed.

george: you left your calculator in my bag again

you smiled before you even opened it.

you: keep it i don’t want it

george: good because i wasn’t giving it back idiot

you: you’re the one failing maths

george: and whose fault is that

you: certainly not mine

he reacted with a laughing emoji. you stared at your screen longer than you needed to, and then something settled quietly in your chest. soft. warm. terrifying.

you didn’t tell anyone. not because it was embarrassing, but because it was george. he’d been your best friend since you were twelve. he knew your parents, he’d seen you cry over a failed history presentation, and he’d watched you trip over absolutely nothing in front of half the year group. he’d sat through every terrible haircut you’d ever had. he wasn’t just someone you liked he was woven into every part of your life. if you told him, and he didn’t feel the same, you’d lose him. that wasn’t a risk worth taking. so you decided something, you’d rather have him as your best friend forever than not have him at all.

it wasn’t difficult at first. you convinced yourself it was just a crush. they went away people got over these things all the time. you’d wake up one morning and he’d just be george again. except, he never became just george. he only became more george. he started walking you home after school because your route overlapped with his. he’d text you when he got home. he remembered how you took your coffee before you even started drinking coffee regularly. he noticed when you tied your hair differently. he bought you a birthday present months in advance because he saw it in a shop window and said it reminded him of you.

people asked constantly if you two were together, but the answer was always no. when people expressed their doubt, george would just grin and say you were like his sister. you laughed every single time. you got very good at laughing.

then he met carmen. you knew before he told you. he spent the entire week checking his phone, smiling at nothing, and fixing his hair in the reflection of classroom windows. you noticed because you noticed everything about him, and you hated yourself for that.

after school, he flopped down beside you on the football field while everyone else slowly packed up, quietly admitting that he thought he liked someone. there it was. you smiled before your heart had time to catch up, asking who it was. he looked weirdly nervous, asking you to promise not to laugh. when you pointed out you never laughed at him, he paused before jokingly telling you not to answer that. he smiled and finally said her name: carmen.

of course. she was pretty, kind, funny, and the captain of the debate team. everyone liked emma, including george. your stomach twisted, but you managed to tell him she was lovely. he looked relieved, asking if you really thought so, and confessed he was thinking about asking her out. you nodded, telling him he should. he looked at you for another second, almost like he was checking your expression, before smiling and thanking you. you smiled back, then you went home and cried in the shower because showers were loud enough that nobody heard.

they started dating three weeks later. everyone celebrated. your friends squealed, and someone started taking bets on how long they’d last. george walked into school practically glowing, telling you to guess who had a girlfriend. you looked up from your notebook, playing along by pretending you had no idea. he gasped dramatically, calling you a terrible best friend, but when you offered your congratulations, he beamed and thanked you.

then he hugged you. tight. he was completely unaware of how impossible he was making it to breathe. when you choked out that he was crushing you, he offered a quick apology, though he wasn’t actually sorry.

you liked carmen, that was the worst part. it would’ve been easier if she were awful, mean, possessive, or cruel. instead, she was sweet. she made george happy, she always included you when you all hung out, and she even remembered your birthday. she once brought you a slice of cake because she’d accidentally baked too much. when you questioned the accident, she grinned and admitted it was maybe intentional. you hugged her, because she deserved kindness, and because hating her would’ve made you hate yourself.

you gave them space, that became your thing. if george mentioned he was meeting carmen after school, you just smiled and told him to have fun. if they wanted to sit together, you found somewhere else. if he forgot to text because he was with her, you pretended not to notice. he deserved happiness, even if it wasn’t with you. especially if it wasn’t with you, because he’d chosen, and he hadn’t chosen you.

sometimes it slipped. little moments, little accidents. once, during lunch, george reached across the table and absentmindedly brushed rice off your jumper. his fingers lingered for less than a second. emma looked up, and you immediately leaned back with a quick thanks. he didn’t even seem to notice and just carried on talking. you couldn’t hear another word.

another time, everyone went bowling. you kept losing. george laughed, telling you that you were actually terrible. when you agreed, he stepped behind you, his hand gently adjusting your grip on the bowling ball while instructing you to bend your knees. your brain stopped functioning. you nervously asked if you were doing it right, but he laughed again, calling you hopeless. his arm brushed yours, and his chin almost rested against your shoulder. you swallowed hard, but then carmen called his name. he immediately stepped away, calling back that he was coming, and jogged over to her. she smiled up at him, and he smiled back. you picked up another bowling ball before anyone noticed your hands were shaking.

alex noticed anyway. alex noticed everything. he cornered you outside school one afternoon, asking if you were okay. you lied and said you were, but he caught it immediately, sighing and telling you that you should just tell george. you laughed it off, asking him who you should tell what, but he gave you a direct look and told you not to play dumb.

you stared at him. alex had been george’s friend almost as long as you had, and you’d become close over the years, close enough that sometimes it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself. he pointed out that it was obvious to everyone except george. you closed your eyes, muttering a quiet praise, while alex called george an idiot. you knew he was right. alex hesitated before suggesting that if george knew, he might react differently, but you shook your head and stopped him. he had a girlfriend, a lovely one at that, alex went quiet. you looked at the pavement, stating that george was happy, and that you didn't get to ruin that. alex countered by asking about your own happiness, but you just offered a small, tired smile and told him you’d live.

you became very good at living. it looked like laughing at the right jokes, and pretending you didn’t notice when george cancelled plans because carmen wanted to go somewhere. it meant bringing him snacks during exam season because he forgot to eat, and listening when he complained after little arguments with her. you never said the selfish things. you never said i would’ve made time for you. you never said i would’ve remembered. you never said i’ve been here the whole time. instead, you just listened, because that’s what best friends do.

one rainy afternoon, nearly two years after they started dating, george knocked on your front door. your mum called upstairs that your boyfriend was here. you groaned back that he wasn't your boyfriend, though she teasingly remarked that yhey could've fooled her. george laughed downstairs, greeting your mother, and you smiled despite yourself. by the time you came downstairs, he’d already made himself comfortable.

you pointed out that he was soaked, and he sarcastically thanked you for the observation. you welcomed the sarcasm, and then he held up a paper bag, offering you chips. you stood there silently, and he explained that he knew you were studying because you always study on thursdays. you blinked. he noticed that? when he caught you staring and asked why you were looking at him like that, you dismissed it as nothing. he complained that you were being weird, and you just looked away with a quiet thanks. he shrugged, acting like it was obvious. obviously. like bringing you food was the most natural thing in the world, and like remembering your schedule wasn’t something special. to him, maybe it wasn’t.

graduation came quicker than you expected. seven years, just like that. everyone cried, teachers gave speeches, and people signed shirts they’d never wear again. you found george sitting alone on the football bleachers after the ceremony. you walked up, letting him know you found him, and he looked up, admitting he just needed a minute. you sat beside him, noting that the school looked different already, smaller somehow.

you remarked that you actually survived, and he laughed, bringing up the time in year eight when you nearly got expelled. you corrected him, saying you didn't nearly get expelled, but he insisted you absolutely did over a frog. you defended yourself by saying it was just one frog, but he countered that it was six frogs. you dismissed it as details. he shook his head, then nudged your shoulder, “thanking you for sticking around” your chest tightened as you promised him always.

he smiled, asking for a real promise, and you looked at him. really looked. seven years. every memory, every almost, every goodbye, and every time you’d chosen friendship over honesty. you repeated the promise, and he held out his pinky like you were thirteen again. you laughed, calling him ridiculous, but he asked you to do it anyways. you hooked your finger around his, cementing the moment. you thought to yourself that you'd always be here, but you didn’t say it out loud. you didn’t have to, he already believed it.

three months later, everything changed. it happened on a tuesday. you were halfway through a lecture when your phone buzzed.

george: can i come over? please?

your stomach dropped. he never texted like that. you replied instantly.

you: of course

when you opened your front door that evening, he looked exhausted. his eyes were red, his hoodie was half zipped, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. he tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. he offered a quiet greeting, and when you asked what happened, he looked past you into the house before looking back. his voice was barely above a whisper when he told you that carmen had broken up with him.

your heart broke twice. once for him, and once because somewhere, buried underneath all the guilt and grief, a tiny, ugly part of you whispered that he was yours again. and you hated yourself for feeling it.

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a/n

hi guys :)

Carlos Sainz x reader

summary: Where you and Carlos ditch the chaos of live for a spontaneous midnight drive, escaping to the mountains for some much-needed freedom. Away from the noise, where emotions spill over and sparks fly. Under the stars, it’s just the two of them, wrapped up in each other, where nothing else matters. tw: some ‘explicit’ kissing, mention of alcohol

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The night had a soft, intoxicating warmth. Madrid was alive, its streets buzzing with nightlife, laughter echoing between the cobblestones. Yet here, on the rooftop of a quiet, old hotel, it felt as if the city didn’t exist at all. It was just the two of you, sitting under a canopy of stars. Carlos leaned back against the railing, eyes dancing with a kind of playful mischief, like he had a secret he wasn’t quite ready to share. The glow of the city lights below caught in his dark hair, casting shadows over his sharp features. You couldn’t help but smile, tracing the rim of your wine glass with your finger as you watched him.

"Y/N," he said, voice low, leaning closer as if the words were meant only for you, "what if we left right now?”. You blinked at him, surprised, a soft laugh bubbling up. "Left? Where would we go?" He shrugged, but his eyes sparkled with something more serious than the carefree way he asked. "Anywhere. Doesn't matter. Somewhere we can forget everything. Just you and me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew he wasn’t talking about a random getaway, not really. It was more than that. He was talking about escaping the pressures, the expectations, the world that weighed on both of you. Carlos, the Formula 1 driver, always under the spotlight, always with the world watching his every move, especially since his move to Williams. You, caught somewhere between your own life and his fast-paced, glamorous world. You found the idea tempting. More than tempting.

You leaned back and looked at him through your semi-drink eyes, considering. “Just us? No races, no cameras?”

“No schedules, no sponsors. No one to tell us who to be or what to do,” Carlos added softly, his gaze locking onto yours. “We’d be free.”

Free. You thought about what that meant. Just you and Carlos, in a place where no one could touch you, no paparazzi flashing cameras in your face all the time, no pressure to play a part you weren’t sure you were ready for. Carlos reached out, his fingers playing with yours. Even that small touch made you hold your breath. Like the whole world could disappear with just one look, one touch. “Where would we go, Carlos?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

He smirked, that boyish grin he got when he was about to do something reckless. "There’s this little village in the mountains. No one would find us there. We could take my car, drive through the night, and by morning… it would just be us."

Your mind painted the picture: winding roads, the hum of the engine beneath you, Carlos’s hand on the wheel, the world shrinking behind you as the horizon opened up. The thrill of not knowing where you were going, but knowing who you were going with. The adventure, the spontaneity, everything about it felt like something out of a dream. “You’re serious?” you asked, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. He nodded, and there was something raw, something real in the way he looked at you. “I’m always serious about you.”

Your pulse quickened. He was offering you a chance to run away, even just for a little while, from the whirlwind of his world—the races, the fame, the constant noise. And you? You wanted it. You wanted him, and the quiet, and the unknown.

“Okay,” you said, barely believing the word left your lips. "Let's go for it." Carlos’s smile grew, full of excitement and relief all at once, and he stood up, offering you his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” You took his hand, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back. The night stretched ahead of you, full of possibility. The kind of night where anything could happen. And with Carlos by your side, it felt like everything was possible.

The road was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the headlights and the occasional streetlight as you sped through the roads outside of the city. The hum of the engine filled the silence between you, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was peaceful, a quiet that said more than words ever could. Carlos glanced over at you, his hand resting on your thigh as he drove, thumb tracing soft circles on your skin. “I used to drive these roads all the time,” Carlos said, breaking the silence, his voice soft and warm. “Back when I was younger, before everything got so… loud.” You smiled, picturing a younger Carlos, racing through the same roads with that same grin on his face. “Do you miss it?” you asked. “Sometimes.” He paused, his eyes flicking from the road to you. “But not tonight.”

Your chest tightened at his words, at the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Like, for once, he wasn’t thinking about the race ahead, or the pressure to win. It was just you.

As the car climbed higher into the mountains, the city below faded into the distance, the stars above becoming brighter, sharper against the deep, dark night sky. Carlos slowed down as you reached a small house, pulling over to the side of the road.

He killed the engine, and for a moment, the world was perfectly still. Carlos turned to you, his eyes soft, his hand still resting on your thigh. “We made it,” he said quietly, the corners of his lips curving into a small smile. You leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder. For a moment, the world was perfectly still, just the soft rustling of trees outside the car and the distant hum of the night. The weight of everything else—the noise, the expectations, the outside world, it all seemed to fade away.

“Yeah, we did,” you whispered back, your breath soft against the fabric of his shirt.

Carlos shifted slightly, turning to face you fully, his hand now trailing from your thigh to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. The look in his eyes was different now, more intent, more… intimate. His fingers lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Your heart fluttered at the words, at the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. The space between you felt charged, the air thick with an anticipation you couldn’t ignore. You leaned into his touch, your eyes locking with his, your breaths coming slower, deeper. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that enough,” he continued, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw, the softness of your lips. “How much you mean to me.” Your heart skipped a beat at the tenderness in his voice. “You don’t have to say it,” you whispered, “I can always feel it.” Carlos’s smile widened, his eyes flickerinG between your lips and your eyes, as if he was waiting for permission. And when you tilted your chin up slightly, closing the small distance between you, he took it as an invitation.

His lips met yours softly at first, testing, but th second your hands found their way to his chest, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened. There was something slow about the way his mouth moved against yours, like he was savoring the moment, tasting every second. His hand slid from your face to the back of your neck, holding you there, keeping you close as if he never wanted to let go, which he indeed didnt want to do.

The kiss grew more urgent, and you could feel the way his breath hitched when your fingers tangled in his hair. Carlos pulled you closer still, his other hand finding the small of your back, guiding you into his lap effortlessly. The feeling of being so close, of feeling the heat of his body pressed against yours, sent a rush through you. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. He was warm, solid, and the way he was holding you—like you were something precious made your own heart race. He pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes searching yours in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, with desire. You looked at him, your hand cupping the side of his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I think I do. you whispered back, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time, savoring the moment just as much as he was.

Carlos’s hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer against him, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, where he placed a series of soft, lingering kisses that left your skin tingling. Every touch, every kiss felt like a promise—like this wasn’t just a fleeting moment, but something real, something lasting. Your breath hitched as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear, and you felt his smile against your skin, knowing exactly what he was doing. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something more than just desire—there was affection, care, and something deeper, something unspoken between you. “I want to be with you” Carlos whispered, his voice low and serious. “Not just now, not just tonight. Always.” Your heart clenched at his words, at the sincerity in his voice. You cupped his face in your hands, pulling him in for another kiss, this one softer, more tender. “I’m not going anywhere” you whispered against his lips.

The kiss that followed was slower, more meaningful. His hands moved up your back, his touch gentle but firm, grounding you in the moment, making you feel safe and wanted. You could feel the way his heart raced against yours, the way he held you like he was afraid to let go.

For a long moment, the two of you stayed like that—wrapped up in each other, your breaths mingling, the world outside the car fading away. It was just you and him, the quiet intimacy of being with someone who made you feel like you belonged, like you were exactly where you were meant to be. Carlos pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in soft, shallow bursts. “You’re everything to me" he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the words were too heavy, too important to say out loud.You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth, with love. “And you’re everything to me” you whispered back, brushing a soft kiss against his lips, sealing the promise between you.

The night stretched on, peaceful and still, the stars above shining brightly as the two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in the quiet, in the safety of knowing that in this moment right here, right now—nothing else mattered.

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part one: https://www.tumblr.com/33piastri/761255390980767744/under-the-influence-lando-norris

lando norris x reader

summary: Lando can’t stop partying, even though Y/N has vanished from his life. Desperate to fill the void she left, he keeps searching for her in the chaos, but no amount of partying can erase the emptiness or regret that’s slowly consuming him.

tw: angst, mentioning of alcohol, not proofread

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The weeks after that night in miami spiraled into a blur of lights, music, and nonstop partying. Lando was living on autopilot, chasing the high of podiums, the rush of feeling, or more like pretending to be on top of the world. But the more he tried to drown himself in all the chaos, the more something bothered him, an empty feeling that the music and all the bottles of alcohol couldn’t fill.

Y/N was gone. At first, he barely registered it—too caught up in the whirl of celebration. The clubs were still as packed as they were before, the beats still thumping in his chest, and the drinks still numbed the edges of his thoughts. But slowly, the absence became impossible to ignore, especially since his friends started bothering him with it too. The familiar face he’d always spot in the crowd, the one that made him feel grounded, like he was normal, was nowhere to be seen. And yet, he couldn’t stop. He kept partying, night after night, as if he could somehow party hard enough to forget she left him. Even as the realization sank in—Y/N wasn’t just skipping a few nights out, she had truly left and still he couldn’t stay away from the clubs. The crowds, the music, the endless stream of faces, they were all a poor substitute for what he’d lost, but he clung to them desperately.

Each night, his eyes would search the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of her, some sign that she hadn’t completely vanished from his life. But she was never there. Still, he kept going back, like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to resist the pull of the parties that had once been their world. At one point he didn’t know why he kept coming back, was it because he still had hope she would be there, or because he genuinely needed the parties. Even though he knew they were empty without her, even though he felt the ache of her absence with every beat of the music, Lando just couldn’t stop, not understanding why. He was trapped in a cycle of his own making, unable to break free, unable to face the void she had left behind.

He tried to shake it off at first, convincing himself that she was just busy, that she would show up eventually. But weeks passed, and still no sign of her. The more he thought about it, the more it gnawed at him. How had he let this happen? How had he let her slip away?

His mind raced with memories of her, of all the moments they’d shared—moments that he had taken for granted. He thought about the way she used to look at him, like he was the only person in the room, and how that look had faded over time, replaced by something he hadn’t noticed until it was too late. Regret twisted inside him, sharp and unrelenting. Every time he checked her profile, he hoped to see some hint that she missed him too, that she was struggling without him. But there was nothing. Just silence. And it drove him mad.

One night, after yet another party that left him feeling hollow, Lando found himself staring at his phone, Y/N’s number opened on the screen. He was drunk, the alcohol making him bold, or maybe just desperate. His finger hovered over the call button, his heart pounding in his chest.

Before he could think better of it, he pressed it.

The phone rang, and for a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer. But then she did.

“Hello?” Her voice was cautious, wary. It was the first time he’d heard it in weeks, and it hit him harder than he expected.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, the sound of her name grounding him for the first time in what felt like forever. “I… I haven’t seen you in ages. Where’ve you been?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and he could almost picture her frown between her brows, considering whether or not to hang up.

“Lando, what do you want?” she finally asked, her tone tired with a slight of annoyance, like she had already given up.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, the truth spilling out before he could stop it. “I just… I miss you. I don’t understand why you don’t come to the parties anymore.”

He heard her sigh, and it cut through him, knowing that him not understand was everything she needed to know. “Because, Lando, those parties aren’t for me anymore. They’re for you and your world, a world I don’t fit into.”

“You do, though,” he argued, his voice slurring slightly as the alcohol fogged his thoughts. “You always did.”

“Not anymore,” she replied quietly, and he could hear the finality in her words. “I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself, pretending like it doesn’t hurt that you’ve changed. You’re not the Lando I fell in love with.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, the truth in them undeniable. He had changed. He had let the fame, the victories, and the parties turn him into someone he didn’t recognize—someone who had pushed away the one person who truly mattered.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “I need you. I’m so lost without you.”

There was another long silence, and for a moment, Lando thought she had hung up. But then she spoke again, her voice soft, almost resigned.

“I can’t be the one to save you, Lando. You have to find yourself first.”

The call ended, leaving Lando staring at his phone, the emptiness inside him growing with each passing second. He had lost her, not just from his life, but from his heart. And the worst part was, he knew it was his own fault. The music from the party still thumped in the background, but it felt distant, hollow. Lando realized that no amount of partying, no number of wins, could fill the void that Y/N had left behind. The parties that once felt like an escape were now just a painful reminder of what he had lost.

The next few weeks passed in a blur, but Lando couldn’t shake the sound of her voice from his mind. It haunted him, her words replaying over and over again, each time cutting deeper. The parties continued, the lights and the music trying to drown out the ache in his chest, but nothing worked.

He missed her. He missed the way she used to look at him, the way she used to make him feel like he was worth something more than just the fame and the wins. But now, all he had were the empty nights and the memories of what could have been.

And as the weeks turned into months, Lando slowly came to realize that he had made a choice. That had cost him the one thing that mattered more than any victory, more than any celebration.

He had chosen the parties over her. And now, he had to live with that choice, knowing that she would never come back.

Now he needed to better himself, not for her, but for himself.

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part two: https://www.tumblr.com/33piastri/761602158807400449/under-the-influence-pt2-ln4

lando norris x reader

summary: After winning the Miami GP, lando is caught up in celebrating at a nightclub, ignoring Y/N. As he enjoys the attention, he doesn’t notice her slipping away. Only later, when it’s too late, he realised that while chasing success, he lost the person who mattered most.

Inspired by the Dutch song: onder invloed - Russo

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The Miami night was electric, the kind of energy that made you feel invincible. Lando was at the center of it all, the hero of the night, freshly crowned the winner of the Miami GP, and more importantly his first victory. The club was packed, bodies swaying under the strobe lights, drinks flowing freely. The music pounded through the speakers, an intoxicating rhythm that matched the adrenaline still coursing through Lando’s veins.

But for all the noise and celebration around him, Lando was oblivious to the one person who had been by his side through it all—Y/N.

She was there, just like she always had been for the past 4,5 years. But tonight, she was different, quieter, almost invisible in the swirl of people around him, she felt different. She had stood at the edge of the VIP section, watching as Lando drowned in the attention, surrounded by gridmates, friends and fans, everyone eager to get a hold of his glory. But he hadn’t spared his girlfriend a glance since the race ended.

It had been the same at the track earlier that day. Y/N had watched him cross the finish line, her heart pounding with happiness, pride and fear, waiting for that moment when his eyes would seek hers, that look they used to share after every race. But it never came. Instead, he had celebrated with his team, his focus entirely on the win, on the cameras, on everything but her. Y/N learned the heart way that love and sadness, indeed could live close together.

Now, in the club, as she watched him sip on another glass of champagne, laughing with people who didn’t know him the way she did, didn’t support him like she did the sinking feeling in her chest grew heavier. The Lando she knew, the Lando she loved, seemed to be slipping further away with every cheer, every flash of the camera.

The song playing now was one that Y/N knew well, one that seemed to capture her feelings in a way that nothing else could. The lyrics cut through the noise, the truth of them hitting her hard as she listened:

“At night, she’s my dream girl, in the club she’s a baddie, at night I’m head over heels, but during the day, not at all.”

The words echoed in her mind, a cruel reminder of how things had changed. She had once been his everything, the person he turned to when the world became too much and he trusted with all his secrets. But now, she was just another pretty face in the crowd, someone to be seen with at night, when the lights were low and the music loud, but forgotten in the harsh light of day, where attention really came to play.

Lando, oblivious to the storm brewing within Y/N, turned to Charles and Daniel, a wide grin on his face. The race had been tough, but he’d pulled through, his first ever win. He felt like he was on top of the world, and tonight was his night to celebrate. Another bottle of champagne was passed his way, and he accepted it with a wink, pouring himself another glass.

But as he did, a flicker of something crossed his mind—Y/N. He hadn’t seen her since the podium, hadn’t really seen her all day, if he was honest. But before he could think about it too much, Daniel grabbed his attention, and the thought was pushed towards the back of his mind once again.

Y/N watched the exchange, her heart tightening and shattering into a thousand pieces. She had never felt more out of place, more forgotten. The realization hit her with a sharp clarity, this wasn’t where she belonged anymore. Lando was drifting further away, caught up in a world she could no longer reach. She didn’t belong with Lando anymore.

Unable to bear it any longer, she turned and slipped out of the VIP section, weaving her way through the crowd, Kika trying to stop her, but she didn’t pay her any attention. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to get out, to breathe. The walls of the club felt like they were closing in on her, the music too loud, the lights too bright.

She stepped outside, the cool Miami night air hitting her like a shock, but it wasn’t enough to clear the fog in her mind. The ache in her chest was almost unbearable, the weight of it dragging her down. She had to let go. She had to leave before she lost herself completely.

Meanwhile, inside the club, Lando was still caught up in the celebrations. But as the night wore on, something began to eat at him, a strange sense of emptiness that he couldn’t shake. He looked around again, a little more purposefully this time, searching for the one person who should have been by his side, but hadn’t been for the entire night.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked aloud, a frown creasing his brow.

Carlos shrugged, not noticing the change in Lando’s demeanor. “Dunno, mate. Haven’t seen her in a while. She’s probably around.”

But Lando knew better. There was a sudden, sharp clarity in his mind, the lyrics of the song playing in the background finally piercing through the haze.

“Under the influence, I’m no longer myself.”

The words echoed in his mind, and suddenly, the weight of the night crashed down on him. He realized he hadn’t been himself—not for a long time. He’d been caught up in the race, in the fame, in everything that came with it, and in doing so, he’d lost sight of the one thing that truly mattered.

Panic set in as he pushed through the crowd, his eyes darting around, searching for her. But she was nowhere to be found. The emptiness inside him grew, a hollow ache that no amount of victory could fill.

“Y/N!” he called out, but his voice was drowned out by the music, by the laughter and cheers that still surrounded him. Desperation clawed at him as he realized what he had done—what he had let slip right through his fingers.

Finally reaching the exit, Lando burst out into the night, his eyes scanning the street frantically. But she was gone. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, the cold truth settling in.

He had won his first ever race, but in doing so, he had lost her. The one person who had always been there, who had always believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself.

The Miami night, starting so full of life and energy, now felt empty, cold. Lando stood alone on the sidewalk, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. The taste of victory had turned bitter in his mouth.

He had been under the influence—of fame, of success, of everything but the love that had been right in front of him. And now, it was too late.

The song still played faintly from inside the club, a haunting reminder of what he had lost.

“Under the influence, I’m no longer myself…”